Jangle
by Frost Deejn
Summary: Calleigh and Eric go to Washington, D.C. for a forensics conference. They soon find themselves crossing paths with the Lightman Group as they investigate a possible case of corruption in the D.C. crime lab.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own _CSI: Miami _or _Lie to Me._

**Jangle**

Chapter 1: Prologue

Snow fell in chunks, splattered and melted on the D.C. streets and clung stickily to blades of grass and the hats and hair of pedestrians.

Inside the Lightman Group office, Dr. Cal Lightman and Dr. Gillian Foster watched the two men across the table. One, Phillip Kimura, was a tall, heavy-set man with small glasses and a dark blue business suit. The other was his client, Henry Boyd, a twenty-something African American man with cornrow braids and small gold earrings. He wore a forest green turtleneck and baggy blue jeans.

"The fee Mr. Boyd is prepared to pay you is considerable," the lawyer stated, "but before we say any more, we'll need you to sign the confidentiality agreement."

"First I need to ask you, why don't you ask the police to investigate?" Lightman inquired.

Kimura glanced at his client, who nodded, then looked back at Lightman. "My client has had bad experiences with the police in the past, and has reason to believe they would not be cooperative in recovering his missing property."

"And just what is the nature of this missing property? Drugs?"

Boyd blinked slowly, narrowing his eyes. The disdainful tightening of his lips was all the answer Lightman needed.

"Not drugs, then. Weapons? Money?"

Boyd's sharp chin tilted upward, but it was followed by a slight movement to the side.

"Not money, then, but something of monetary value."

"The items in question rightfully belong to my client. They are not stolen goods, or obtained by any other unlawful means. My client may, however, be involved in unsavory associations which may become salient during the course of your investigation, should you accept the contract. Otherwise, we will take our business to private investigators who will be, I'm sure, more discreet though less competent than you."

"'Unsavory associations' like the man your client shot in his apartment last week?" Foster asked.

"Which was determined to be a clear case of self-defense," Kimura pointed out.

"Yes, I'm sure it was _quite _determined to be that from the beginning," Lightman quipped.

"Notwithstanding, the district attorney will make no effort to try that case. However, it does have some bearing on the reason my client would like to engage your services."

Lightman signed his name on the confidentiality agreement and slid it back across the table to Kimura.

"Wednesday of last week," Kimura began, "an old friend of my client who had a longstanding conflict with him broke into my client's residence with the intent to kill him with a gun. Mr. Boyd prudently had a gun of his own on his nightstand, and his aim proved to be better than his former friend's. Mr. Boyd promptly called the police to report the incident. He waited in his apartment until they arrived ten minutes later. He answered their questions, and then left the building as crime scene investigators went over his apartment to confirm that the evidence matched his account. When he was allowed to return to the apartment, Boyd discovered some items of considerable monetary value were missing. His personal surveillance equipment confirmed that no one came or went from his apartment during that time other than police and crime scene investigators."

"What was stolen?" Foster asked.

It was Henry Boyd who answered. "Gold chains and bracelets. Real gold. I kept them in a box in a hole in my mattress. They were there when I went to bed that night, gone when I got back after they took their crime scene tape down. Only thing I can figure is one of dem CSIs took it."

"And you're not telling the police because...?"

"How do I know one of them ain't in on it? And you just know there gonna stand up for their people instead of me."

Lightman and Foster exchanged glances. There were only a few ways a kid this young could have enough money to invest in gold jewelry, hire an attorney like Mr. Kimura, and pay their fee. Not that that was any of their business.

At their silence, Kimura added some input of his own. "I've confirmed that the items in question - fifty bracelets and sixteen necklace chains worth at least ten thousand dollars - were never entered into evidence during the investigation."

"You kept ten thousand dollars worth of jewelry in your bed?" Foster asked.

"Hey, I was the only one who knew where they were, and I trust me, 'kay?"

Foster nodded.

"So, even if one of these blokes did it, you expect us to just barge in and start asking them a lot of questions without them getting wise to what we're doing and getting the cops involved?" Lightman asked.

A hint of smile tugged at the corner of Kimura's lips. "There were four CSIs at the crime scene: Heather Vance, Booker Merritt, Cai Bonny, and James Stone. They will all be attending a forensics symposium next week. I'm sure you will find some opportunity to ascertain their guilt or innocence during that time. All we need from you is to figure out which one stole my client's property. We will handle it from there."

* * *

It was a warm, sunny winter afternoon in Miami.

"You know what I love more than the perp spilling everything as soon as we bring them in? When they maintain their innocence even when they know we have the proof to nail them," Ryan Wolfe said as he shook his head at the violent robber being lead away in handcuffs for attempted murder.

"Yeah, no kidding," Natalia Boa Vista agreed. "At some point, they just start to sound delusional."

"So," Ryan asked, "do you have any other cases to finish up today?"

"Uh, no. Not that I know of."

"That's too bad."

"Why?"

"Because it means you'll probably be the first to talk to our friendly neighborhood IAB agent."

"You mean Rick's replacement? Those interviews are today?"

"They're starting today. But, oh, it's nothing to worry about," he said sarcastically, "the Rat Squad just wants to do some routine interviews to make sure everyone's adhering to department regulations."

"Right. If they want to find corruption in the department, they should look in a mirror. We're not the ones who got involved in murder and planting evidence to cover up blatant theft."

"Don't _remind _me," Ryan groaned. He had, after all, been the one Rick Stetler tried to frame.

"Hey, do you think it's a coincidence that H. is sending Calleigh and Eric to that conference in D.C.? Maybe he doesn't want them being questioned by the IAB."

"What I'm wondering is if he's sending them so the department only has to fork out money for one hotel room."

Natalia laughed. "Yeah, except I'm pretty sure they're in an 'off again' stage."

"Really? Well I'm pretty sure I saw them leave together the other day."

"You saw them drive away together?"

"No, just walk out together, but they were looking at each other that way that they do."

"Who can tell, with those two. Why are we even talking about this? It's none of our business." Natalia turned away and almost walked right into a petite woman with short, dark brown hair. She was carrying a clipboard.

"Natalia Boa Vista?" she asked.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Ori Wexler, Rat Squad. We're just going to have a little chat."


	2. Suspicion

Chapter 2: Suspicion

Ria Torres read over the facts of their latest case.

"Personally, I think it serves him right," Eli Loker said.

"What does?"

"Henry Boyd. He kept thousands of dollars in gold in his apartment in that neighborhood. And, let's face it, considering that's how he probably got it in the first place, how can he be surprised that it got stolen?"

"Whatever your personal opinion about the client, he hired us to get his gold back, so that's what we're going to do."

"Right. We're going to go to this conference, pretend we're students, and then casually ask these people 'oh by the way, ever stolen anything from work?'"

"This isn't like carrying off office supplies. If a CSI really did steal from a crime scene, it's a serious ethical violation. If we don't see guilt, we're gonna see fear of getting caught," she replied.

"But why do we have to be so incognito about it? If the client just went up to the police and told them his stolen goods were stolen, he'd probably have his gold back in a day, for free."

"You really trust cops that much? Evidence goes missing all the time, especially if it's valuable. The cops might just say there's no proof the gold was Mr. Boyd's in the first place."

"So you actually approve of the way we're handling this? Sitting through hours of boring lectures just so we can have a few minutes to chat up suspects?"

"Hey, we're getting three days of free lunches, so I'm not complaining."

Eli conceded her point with a nod and a shrug.

* * *

"You know, those things Wolfe and I were saying back there, we were just joking," Natalia explained as she sat down at the table in the conference room Ori Wexler had appropriated for the interviews.

"I know," Wexler stated. She glanced over the file in her hands, then continued. "Ms. Boa Vista, you used to work for the FBI, you were assigned to look for any indication of misconduct in the lab, so I'm not going to waste our time going over what is or is not appropriate behavior. I've been over the records of my predecessor. I have some concerns, but I've decided to start with a blank slate, since former agent Stetler was...clearly not an unbiased source."

"Stetler was a liar, a thief, and a killer," Natalia stated forcefully.

Wexler looked up at her. "Ms. Boa Vista, when I took this job, I knew it wouldn't win me any popularity contests. Your lab has an especially good excuse to distrust IAB, but I am not Stetler; I took this job because I believe in its importance. Officers of the law cannot be above the law. Because they are in a position to do so much damage if they abuse their authority, they must be held to even higher standards of conduct than the general public."

"I completely agree," Natalia said. "Believe me, I got this speech when I first came to work at the crime lab. And the people I work with are some of the most honest and upstanding officers of the law I've ever seen."

Wexler raised her eyebrows. "There have been numerous accusations from accused and convicted criminals that Lieutenant Horatio Caine assaulted them or threatened them. You're saying you don't know about any of those incidences?"

Natalia considered her answer carefully. "Horatio cares about the victims, and sometimes he uses threats to get vital information from suspects. But cops are allowed to lie to suspects."

The IAB agent smiled. "Yes. But there are lines of legality and Constitutionality that must not be crossed. I believe from these reports that Caine may have crossed those lines. But justice is about what can be proven, not what is believed, so I'm not pursuing any sort of disciplinary action against Caine for those. What I need to know is that if you suspected any misconduct by Lieutenant Caine or any other officer, you would report it."

"Of course. Anything I could prove, anyway."

She stared at her. "Keep in mind there's a degree of loyalty that is inappropriate for officers of the law. You swore an oath to protect the public, not your friends in the department."

"Are you gonna be giving everyone this speech?" Natalia asked.

"Yes. Some version of it, anyway. I would've sent out a memo, but I want to give everyone the chance to say something if they have any concerns or need anything cleared up. You and I both know there's a lot of gray area between a corrupt crime lab and an ideal crime lab. I don't care about that gray area. I have no intention of starting a witch hunt here."

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Are we done?"

Wexler sat back. "Sure."

* * *

Henry Boyd's apartment was spacious and uncluttered. He had bars over the windows and a deadbolt on his door.

"How did the man you killed get in here?" Dr. Foster asked as they walked in.

"He'd been a friend. He had a key," Phillip Kimura answered for his client.

"Good thing it's not a crime to be bad at picking friends," Lightman muttered. "Where was the bling hidden, then?"

Boyd gestured down the hall. "In here."

He led them to the bedroom. He lifted up the mattress from his bed and pointed to the slit in the fabric. "I kept them in a shoebox that I stuck up here."

"What was that, your retirement fund?" Lightman asked facetiously as he examined the hiding place.

"They were for gifts."

"Gifts for whom?"

"Chicks. You know, women can't resist jewelry, so I liked to have some on hand for whenever I got a new girlfriend. Or wanted to get a new girlfriend."

Lightman glanced at Foster, who rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Boyd's reasons are his own, obviously," Kimura stated.

Foster turned in a circle to take in the room. "Where was your friend standing when you shot him?"

"Danny was over there, right by the door."

"And you were in your bed?"

"Yeah. And my gun was right here." Boyd tapped his nightstand, next to his lamp. "I keep it on me during the day. It's a tough neighborhood."

She looked over the bed. "Mr. Kimura, would it have been normal procedure for the CSIs to move the bed during their investigation?"

The attorney shook his head. "There was gunshot residue on the blanket, but they would only have moved the mattress if they had reason to believe there was something significant on or under it. And nothing in their documentation indicates they did."

Lightman dropped to the floor and looked underneath the bed. There was a plywood board between the bed frame and the mattress. The floor was dusty, but other than a rat trap, there was nothing on it.

"They recovered my client's bullet casing underneath the nightstand," said Kimura.

"There's no way they could've seen the hole in the mattress from there. And you're sure there was no one else in your house between the last time you saw the gold and when it was declared a crime scene?"

"No," Boyd stated. "And I was home the whole time. No one else coulda taken it. How many times do I have to say it?"

"That will do."

As Lightman and Foster walked out to their car through the cold, snowy twilight, Foster asked, "You believe them?"

"They really believe the CSIs stole the gold."

"If it's true, that's a really serious allegation."

"Yeah. Let's hope it's not true, then."


	3. Attention

Chapter 3: Attention

Snow fell down through the streetlights outside Dulles International Airport.

Eric paused a few steps from the road and looked up. Calleigh stopped beside him, looking at him questioningly.

"It's my first time seeing it in person," he explained.

"D.C.?"

"Snow."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really? You've never seen snow before?"

"Where would I of seen it? I'm from Miami. It's snowed once in the city's history."

"That explains why you were so excited to go to this conference," she noted, turning her eyes from him to the snow.

He scoffed softly as he tugged his jacket tighter. The possibility of snow hadn't even crossed his mind when he'd agreed to go to this conference. "You ready for your lecture?"

She shrugged. "I'm always a little nervous speaking to an audience, but I'm as ready as I can be." She flashed him a smile, then crossed the street to find their rental car.

Eric opened his palm. After a minute, a large snowflake landed in it, immediately melting. He dropped his hand and looked at Calleigh, who was grinning at him from the open door of a blue sedan.

"I'm coming." He tossed his duffel bag next to her suitcase in the trunk and got in the front passenger seat. He stared out the window as they drove through the city.

* * *

The Stirling Hotel was a long, narrow, seven-story gray brick building. The sleek, crisp architecture was meant to give it a modern, modish look, but the snow and foggy gray clouds made it seem cold and unwelcoming.

"Think we should talk to the suspects together, or should we divide and conquer?" Ria wondered as she and Eli entered.

"I think we should just observe them at first and then decide how to handle them."

She nodded. "Excuse me," she said to the receptionist. "We're here for the forensics conference."

"Down the hall to the left. Just follow the signs. But it doesn't start until ten."

"Thank you."

They were among the first in the lecture hall, as they'd planned. They took seats in the back corner and waited, watching as other attendees started trickling in and taking seats.

"Hey, if I ordered room service, do you think Foster would let me write it off as a business expense?"

"I don't think room service delivers to lecture halls. And no," Ria replied.

Eli opened a book with pictures of their four suspects inserted between the pages and pretended to read while he studied their faces. Ria looked over a program for the conference.

Day 1:  
10:00 a.m.: Welcoming Remarks, Dr. Edmond Howe  
10:30 a.m.: The History of Crime Scene Investigation, Vincent Shields  
12:00 p.m.: Lunch  
1:30 p.m.: Collecting and Analyzing Airborne Particulates, James Stone  
3:30 p.m.: Clues from Chaos: Determining the Relevance of Evidence, Elliot Smith  
5:30 p.m.: Firearm and Ballistics Dissociation Techniques, Calleigh Duquesne

Day 2:  
10:00 a.m.: Document Analysis Workshop, Qiandao Chen  
12:00 p.m.: Lunch  
1:30 p.m.: Examining Uncooperative Suspects for Physical Evidence, Hope Zamora  
2:30 p.m.: Soil Analysis, Dr. Liv Engstrom  
4:00 p.m.: Evidence Handling, Transfer, Storage, and Cross-contamination, Dr. Collin Deem and Katie Nguyen  
5:00 p.m.: When Evidence and Eyewitnesses Clash, A.G. West

Day 3:  
10:00 a.m.: Conditions Affecting Persistence and Degradation of Hair and Skin Cell Trace, Dr. Hiba Issa  
11:00 a.m.: Probative Potential of Bacterial Deposition in Cold Cases, Dr. Edmond Howe  
12:00 p.m.: Lunch  
2:00 p.m.: Computerizing the Crime Scene Workshop, Malgorzata Lis and Greg Sarno  
5:00 p.m.: The Future of Forensics, Payson Fogg  
6:00 p.m.: Closing discussion, Refreshments

"Some of these sound like they could be interesting."

"Are you serious. Just reading the titles of the lectures just about puts me to sleep."

"So you're not at all interested in seeing how crimes are solved?"

"Crimes are _solved _by cops questioning people until they find suspects, then questioning the suspects until they confess. What these guys do is pretty much scraping bits and pieces together to make the case look good for juries."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Seriously?"

"Do you really think someone could figure out what happened by a hair or a speck of dust?"

"We figure out if people are lying by the twitch of a muscle or a split-second pause. Their fields are a lot more established than ours, so I wouldn't be too cocky if I were you. I'm not going to assume their methods don't work just because I don't understand them."

"You're right," he conceded. "But it still sounds incredibly boring."

"I don't know, the one about examining suspects might be interesting, and it might even be relevant to the work we do."

"There's our guys," Eli mumbled as a group of five people entered the room, including Cai Bonny and Heather Vance. A few minutes later, James Stone and Booker Merritt joined them.

"How many of their coworkers are coming?" Ria wondered.

"Nine, not counting their boss, Dr. Howe."

"Ah. That makes sense."

The aforementioned Dr. Howe, a well-dressed, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties, took the platform. "Ladies and gentlemen of the forensics and criminology professions, welcome to the East Coast Criminalistics Symposium. As it is my honor to host the symposium this year, and I know many of you have traveled long distances to be here, let me welcome you also to the District of Columbia. There have been many fascinating and potentially very helpful developments in scientific fields pertaining to forensics this past year..."

"I am seriously about to fall asleep right now," Eli whispered.

Ria just shook her head slightly, continuing to examine the audience.

* * *

Ryan tapped his fingers on the table while the new IAB agent looked over his file.

Ori Wexler glanced up at him, fidgeting with the pen in her hand, then returned her eyes smoothly to the words on the page. "You transferred to the crime lab from Patrol, I see."

"Yeah."

"Was there any specific reason you wanted to transfer? Were you worried about your performance in the field?"

"No, I've always been interested in science, detail-oriented, and I thought the crime lab would be more fulfilling."

"Has it been?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ever had any trouble with your coworkers, or concerns about their integrity?"

After a few seconds, Ryan leaned back, pushing his hands against the edge of the table. "You know what, just get it over with. Just go ahead and say it," he said in exasperation.

She glanced up curiously. "Say what?"

"The elephant in the room: my gambling problem."

"As far as I can tell, you haven't had a relapse for a few years now," she said lightly.

"So...you're not gonna hold that against me?"

"Everyone's made mistakes. You took a pay cut when you transferred to the crime lab, and again when you quit your job as a crime correspondent to try to get your job back. I'm going to take all that as an indication that you're not doing this job for the money. I also see some positive indicators in your record that you would be more forthcoming than some of the other CSIs in your lab if you did suspect a problem."

"You mean that I'd rat out one of my friends? You're wrong. Let me tell you something, Wexler: I hate IAB. _Hate _them. So if you want someone to dig up dirt on the lab for you, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"I get why you'd say that, after what Rick Stetler did, but just because there was one over-ambitious, crooked IAB agent doesn't mean we all are. I'm trying to protect the department from corruption, which I'm sure someone with your demonstrated integrity can understand. I hope you come to trust me."

He stared at her. "That's something you're gonna have to earn."

* * *

Lightman and Foster looked across the street at the four-story, box-shaped red building that housed the Anacostia Forensics Lab.

"You sure about this, Cal?"

"Why not? If one of the crime scene investigators stole the gold, they had to take it here, right? So we watch to see if anyone packs it away. If not, what's the harm?"

"The camera could be stolen. That's a very expensive piece of equipment," she reminded him.

"We can put it on our client's bill, then."

"Okay, but hurry up. It's cold out here."

Lightman pulled himself up into the lower branches of a leafless tree and affixed a small, waterproof, battery-powered, satellite-enabled camera in a tangle of twigs. "How's the view, love?"

"Angle it a couple of degrees down, and a little bit to the...left," Foster replied, looking at the camera's footage on a computer screen she was holding.

"How's that?"

"A little higher. Got it."

"Great." He dropped out of the tree. "Now let's get out of this cold."

"When did I become a glorified PI?" Foster grumbled as they headed to her car.


	4. Deception

Chapter 4: Deception

It was about twenty minutes into the first lecture, and even Eli had to admit it was interesting. He was also observing the facial expressions and body postures of the people in the audience, focusing especially on the four suspects.

Heather Vance, Cai Bonny, James Stone, and Booker Merritt. At first glance, they all looked like ordinary, law-abiding people. No obvious indications of guilt or nervousness in their aspects.

When the first lecture was finally over, lunch was served in the hotel's cafeteria. By previous agreement, Ria and Eli took the opportunity to talk to their suspects.

"That was a fascinating presentation, don't you think?" Eli said as he stepped next to Booker Merritt to grab a bite-sized section of deli sandwich. "I had no idea they could tell so much from human hair back then."

Merritt gave him a bemused look, not sure why someone he hadn't met would be striking up a conversation. "Yes, it was interesting."

"I'm Eli Loker, by the way."

"Booker Merritt." They shook hands.

"Where are you from, Booker?"

"I work out of the city police lab here in DC. You?"

"I'm local too."

"Really? I don't remember seeing you before."

"Oh, I'm not a CSI. Just an enthusiast." Eli wasn't technically lying; he didn't say what kind of enthusiast.

"A crime scene enthusiast?" Merritt asked doubtfully.

"Why not? You have to admit it's amazing what you guys can figure out just from little pieces of evidence at a scene. Do you think it's possible for someone to commit the perfect crime? One where they leave behind no evidence at all?"

"No, but there is a kind of arms race between criminals and investigators. The more savvy they get, the more they learn about forensics, the better they're able to hide their tracks. One of our earliest tools was fingerprinting, and now anyone committing a premeditated crime knows to wear gloves."

"Interesting. By that logic, a CSI would be the best criminal: they'd know how to hide the evidence."

"And if they happen to be assigned to investigate the crime they committed, they'd be able to cover it up," Merritt added. Then he quickly decided that might not sound good, and added, "But a CSI would be less likely to commit a crime in the first place, because they know how even the smallest piece of evidence could lead back to them."

"Fascinating."

Meanwhile, Ria had made her way to Heather Vance's side. "How's the deviled eggs?" she asked.

Vance started slightly. "They're good. I mean, not the best I ever had, but okay for a free meal."

"That's good enough for me," Ria said, taking a deviled egg from the hors d'oevres table and putting it on her plate. "How are you enjoying the conference?"

"So far so good. But we pretty much have to be here. Our boss is hosting it."

"Oh really? You from DC?"

"Yes," Vance answered. "You?"

"Harrisburg. This conference is like a paid vacation for me. How long have you been a CSI?"

"Just over ten years."

"Wow. I haven't even been in the field a year. Does it get easier?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you get used to the blood, the visual proof of the terrible things people are capable of doing to each other every day? Killing people, hurting people, robbing people. I wouldn't have expected theft to bother me so much, since it's not as violent, but when you see how it affects people you realize it really does hurt them. Not only do they lose their whole sense of security, but they might have lost what they'd worked years to save up. I've seen it ruin lives."

"It gets easier," Vance said. "After a while, it's just a job, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. Hey, I don't think I caught your name," Ria said.

"Heather."

"I'm Ria. Nice to meet you. It's great to see so many women here. I'm pretty much the only woman in my crime lab."

"We're definitely outnumbered."

"Does that ever make it hard? Like the men you work with just expect you to go along with whatever they say? Or is that just me?"

Vance didn't answer.

"Maybe that's just because I'm so new. I could just be paranoid."

"I'm sure you're not. We should get back to the auditorium."

"Yeah."

They returned to the conference. Eli sat down next to Ria. In a voice low enough to avoid being overheard, he said, "I talked to Merritt. I can't tell if he was involved or not. I wasn't picking up any guilt, but he does have a fascination with criminality. Read anything off Vance?"

"Yeah. She's feeling guilty over something. And she's definitely having money problems. But she's not the ringleader."

The next presentation was given by another of their suspects, James Stone. He was a short, plump man with glasses too big for his face and black hair going gray at the temples. He fumbled with the remote control for the projector for a moment before the first slide of his presentation came up on the screen at the front of the room. He looked over his shoulder at it for a moment before turning toward the audience and beginning. "Thank you for having me here today. I'm James Stone. I've worked for twenty-two years at three different forensic labs around the country. And today I'll be talking to you about Collecting and Analyzing Airborne Particulates. When I started work as a crime scene investigator over two decades ago..."

"Wake me when it's over," Eli whispered.

"Shh."

Ria couldn't quite get a read on the man; he seemed completely absorbed in his subject. He was nervous, but most public speakers were, and he wasn't reading guilty conscience.

During the break between lectures, Ria tried to get a chance to talk to him, but couldn't get through the tight knot of CSIs with examples, counter-examples, and follow-up questions.

The next lecture, by a man they weren't interested in as a suspect, was yet more interesting for its content, which both Ria and Eli found relevant to their own field. They listened attentively.

Once again they could not get a word with their remaining suspects during the fifteen minute recess. Then the last speaker of the day took the podium.

"She is a hottie," Eli said of the blond woman.

"I think her friend over there would agree with you. Have you seen the way he's looking at her?"

Eli glanced at the Latino who had been sitting next to her. "That's a crush if I ever saw it. What do you think: unrequited love or carrying a torch for an ex?"

"I'm not sure," Ria said, examining the man, who'd shifted his eyes to reading his program as if forcing himself not to look at the speaker.

"Hello everyone. My name is Calleigh Duquesne," she said in a thick Southern accent. "And today I'll be talking to you about bullets and the guns that fire them." She proceeded to rattle off statistics on the number of homicides committed using firearms, and the importance of ballistic comparison to solving those homicides.

"I don't care what she's talking about, I could watch her all day," Eli said.

"You're a pig."

"I just say what all men think."

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Foster about your habit of self-projection. Sh." Ria held up a finger and focused on what the speaker was talking about. She'd moved on to discussing a case of hers in which the perp had taken forensic counter-measures to keep the gun from causing striations on a bullet. It wasn't so much that the subject was inherently interesting, but she told it with such passion and humor the story was captivating.

"Who knew being a crime scene investigator could actually be interesting?" Eli whispered.

"Are you serious? That sounds like it would be a great job to me."

"Better than the one you've got?"

"I don't know," Ria answered honestly. That's what happened when you just fell into a career; you couldn't really call it a dream job.

Calleigh Duquesne was the last speaker of the day. When she concluded, Eli and Ria tried to make their way toward the front, where James Stone and Dr. Howe were among the throng around her, asking her questions and remarking with admiration on the seemingly dozens of fascinating cases she'd helped solve.

"I guess she's like a superstar among CSIs," said Ria.

The way Dr. Howe was gushing over her, _starstruck _was a good way to describe it.

"And you're sure it was really the hurricane?" they heard him ask as they made their way up to them.

The blonde smiled. "Positive," she replied in her angelic Southern accent. "Hurricane-force winds are nothing to mess with. Though I'd never heard of anything quite like it."

"Amazing," Dr. Howe said. "And that you could actually figure it out...Most people would have locked away the ex-husband and forgotten about it."

She smiled and shrugged. "We try to be thorough. I'm sure you would have come to the same conclusion."

"And your lab! You've got cutting edge in everything."

"Well from what I've heard, your labs a treat. I'd love to see it."

"Really?" Dr. Howe asked eagerly. "If you don't have anything else to do I could give you a tour this evening. All of you," he gestured quickly to include every attendee within earshot.

"I'd hate to put you to so much trouble..." Duquesne said.

"No trouble. It would be an honor. And I'd love to have your take on some of my pet projects."

Her face broke into a smile. "In that case I'd love to."

"Great! And you Mr. Del...uh..."

"Delko," the man who'd been sitting next to Calleigh Duquesne said. "And yes, I'll go too."

"Big surprise there," Eli remarked in a whisper to Ria.

"Maybe we should join them," she said. "We'll get up close to the CSIs, see their team dynamic. It could help us figure out who was involved in the theft."

Eli shrugged. "I'm up for it if you are."

"Okay." Ria broke away from him. "Excuse me, Dr. Howe. If you have room for one more I'd like to accept your offer."

"Me too," Eli added, stepping up beside her.

"Great!" Dr. Howe declared. "Let's go."


	5. Intimation

Chapter 5: Intimation

It was a small group that accompanied Dr. Howe on the tour of the Washington crime lab. Calleigh, Eric, a few of the D.C. CSIs, and five of the other guests from the conference.

"That is one incredible microscope," Calleigh commented in one room of the lab.

"That microscope helped solve the Lindsay Foreman case," Dr. Howe said proudly.

"I read about that. Fascinating."

Ria observed everyone in the group. Calleigh Duquesne's interest in the workings of the D.C. Lab was genuine, as was Dr. Howe's enthusiasm in showing it off. Everyone else—including Eli—was a little bored, except for the other CSI from Miami, Eric Delko, who had to suppress a surge of jealousy every time Dr. Howe paid Calleigh a fawning compliment.

Ria was so involved in observing the interactions and reactions of the CSIs that after a few minutes she was startled to realize Eli wasn't with the group. She looked around for him, and spotted him behind the tour group looking into a side room.

After making sure no one else in the group was looking in her direction, she slipped away to join him. "What are you doing?" she quietly demanded.

"I was thinking, if the CSIs really are stealing things from their crime scenes, how are they doing it? Look around you; it's not like they can just walk out with whatever and not draw attention."

"They could hide the stolen goods in their car."

"Or they could take them here. Did you see the forensic kits they carry around?"

"Yeah."

"I bet it would be easy to just stash something small and valuable in one of those kits, bring it back here, then just casually put it in your pocket while you're taking samples or whatever out of the kit."

"But would you risk doing it with cameras everywhere?"

Movement behing Ria caught their attention. It was Calleigh. "Hey," she said. "What are you doing back here?"

"I wanted to take a look at how Dr. Howe arranges his equipment," Ria answered.

"I doubt he arranges the equipment in the fingerprint lab," she said. Then she smiled. "Come on, let's get back to the group."

The tour only lasted a few more minutes. It ended at the reception room, where Dr. Howe asked if anyone had any question.

"No," Calleigh replied. "That tour was quite enlightening. You have a good lab here, Dr. Howe."

"Thank you, Ms. Duquesne."

"Well, I'll see you all tomorrow," Eli said, and headed out the door. He was followed by the others one at a time into the chilly night air.

Calleigh fell into step behind Eric. "Hey, can I talk to you a sec?"

"Since when did you have to ask?"

"I think those two are up to something."

"What two?" Eric asked.

"I think they said their names were Eli and Ria. I don't think they're even really CSIs."

"What makes you say that?"

"Did you notice when they broke away from the rest of the group? I overheard them talking. It sounded like they were talking about stealing something."

"Stealing something?"

"Yeah. They were looking in the trace lab, and I called it the fingerprint lab, and neither of them called me on it."

Eric halted. He watched Eli get into a car and drive away. "That is weird. Do you think we should tell the cops?"

"Not yet. If I'm wrong I don't want to get them in trouble. I think we should follow them."


	6. Intrusion

Chapter 6: Intrusion

Strengthening Calleigh's suspicions, the young man and woman left in the same car as soon as they got back to the hotel. She and Eric trailed them at a discreet distance. She drove, using training she still remembered from her days in the Jacksonville PD.

The journey ended at an office building. Most of the lights were off. The car they were trailing pulled into an employee parking space, and its two occupants entered the building. A minute later, a light turned on on the second floor.

"One of us should check it out," Eric said.

"No," replied Calleigh, "we _both _should. Somethings up."

They parked the car around the block and walked to the building, entered through the unlocked front door.

Calleigh looked at the inventory of offices on the wall. "The Lightman Group," she said. "Any idea what that could be?"

"Could be anything."

They were both quiet for half a minute as they tried to decide what to do.

"If they're involved in criminal activity..." Eric started.

"Then we'd need a warrant to look into it, and we can't get a warrant because it's not our jurisdiction. We could alert local authorities, but right now we have no evidence that they're involved in anything, other than that they're acting suspicious."

"We can check their office hours," Eric said, looking at his watch. With how long it had already been dark, it was hard to believe it was just after 7 p.m. "And if we see anything while we're up there..."

Instead of answering, Calleigh led the way toward the stairs.

The door to the Lightman Group offices was unlocked, but there was no receptionist on duty in the front lobby.

"What do they do in this place?" Eric wondered as he looked at some odd photographs on the wall, most of them of famous people with awkward facial expressions.

Calleigh shook her head. "I don't like this. I feel like we're being watched."

"Maybe we should go."

"But if they are planning on stealing from CSI, or already have..."

"Then this could be the only chance to stop them," Eric said.

She looked up at him and flashed a quick smile. He could still finish her thoughts.

The two CSIs took a look around the office, careful not to touch anything. Computers and lights were on, which combined with the fact that the door was unlocked indicated they hadn't closed shop for the night yet, but there didn't seem to be anyone there.

"This is eerie," Calleigh said.

"Yeah." Eric caught sight of what looked like a sophisticated polygraph through a window to another room. He frowned, and walked down a hallway to take a closer look.

It was a polygraph, he was almost sure. And the room contained other equipment as well: computers, cameras, electrodes. It dawned on Eric that this looked like some kind of crime fighting department, a consultant group of some kind.

"Calleigh, what exactly did you hear them say?" he asked.

When there was no answer, he turned. Calleigh wasn't behind him, as he'd thought. He didn't know where she was. "Calleigh?"

He saw a shadow moving on the wall; someone was coming toward him. "Hey Cal!"

"Yes?"

It was a man's voice. British accent. Or maybe Australian.

A moment later, the man appeared, approaching down the hallway. A middle aged man with sandy brown hair.

"Who are you?" Eric asked thoughtlessly.

"Cal Lightman. I presume you're looking for me, since you're in my office."


	7. Proposition

Chapter 7: Proposition

Calleigh and Eric sat across a table from Dr. Lightman and a prim, dark haired woman. They had both listened attentively as the two CSIs awkwardly explained what circumstances had led them to go poking around his office. Now that their narrative had petered out, Dr. Lightman continued looking at them for a long moment. Then he sat up straight. "Well, you are telling the truth," he said as if it would be news to them. "But your actions are still somewhat troubling from two law enforcement officers. What's your take, Dr. Foster?"

"Investigating suspicions of theft on their own does indicate a distrust for authority, or impatience with the proper channels, although they're hardly the only people in this room guilty of that. But they didn't break any laws, since your office door was open. I would say all in all their actions demonstrate a commendable degree of civic mindedness."

"Not to mention keen intelligence," Dr. Lightman added, "since you were spot on that those two blokes you followed weren't actual CSIs. You can come in now."

The door opened a few seconds later, and Eli and Ria entered the room.

"What's going on here?" Eric asked.

"These two work for me," Dr. Lightman said.

"We thought you were following us, so we led you up here," said Eli.

"To see what you would do," Ria added.

"Actually, first they called me," Lightman said. "And I decided, if we all decided we could trust you, we could use your help."

"But why were you pretending to be CSIs?" Calleigh asked. "What were you doing poking around the forensic lab? What is it you do here?"

Eli answered. "We do pretty much the same thing you do: we get to the truth. We just do it better."

"Hey, none of that," Dr. Foster said to him. She looked at the two CSIs. "Contractually we can't share the details of our current case with you, but we have reason to suspect one or more of the investigators employed in the Washington, D.C. Criminal Forensics lab have been stealing valuables from crime scenes."

"That's a serious allegation," Calleigh said.

"We know."

"But if you can't tell us what you're working on," said Eric, "why are you asking for our help?"

"With some general information," Dr. Foster answered. "What safeguards are in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening? What are the consequences if they're caught? How would a CSI stealing something from a crime scene hide and transport it?"

Calleigh leaned forward on an elbow and put her finger lightly to her cheek. "It's easier and more common than you'd think. CSIs are supposed to work in pairs to discourage that kind of thing, but crime scenes are big, processing them takes hours if not days, and resources get spread thin. It would be easy for a CSI to pocket something while their partner's not looking. But even the accusation of theft could kill a career, so that's the biggest discouragement."

"Also, the very first thing you do at a crime scene is photograph it," Eric added. If Calleigh was going to cooperate with them, so would he. "Anything in plain sight, you'd see it missing in later pictures. And we catalog everything. If something's reported missing, you know who was working where and when."

Calleigh had suddenly grown quiet and contemplative. Dr. Lightman smiled at her. "Is that a plan I see on your face?"

She looked up. "I'm the daughter of a defense attorney. Believe me, I understand the importance of client privilege. But if I knew the case reference number and where the valuables were taken from, I'm pretty sure I could hand you the thief. Discreetly."

Lightman lifted an eyebrow. She was telling the truth. "Let me make a phone call."


	8. Intuition

Chapter 8: Intuition

Walter walked out of the his lab and almost tripped over the comparatively tiny IAB agent.

"Sorry," he said quickly, grabbing her arm to keep her upright.

"No problem," she mumbled. "Are you Walter Simmons?"

"Yeah. That's me."

"I was just looking for you. I'm Ori Wexler, IAB. Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah. I was just finishing up. What's this about?"

"Nothing really," she smiled. "Just some routine bridge-building. At least that's how I look at it. Shall we speak in the conference room?"

Walter had heard that the new IAB agent was sniffing around, but he hadn't thought she'd want to talk to him.

They sat down at the conference room table.

"Okay," Walter said, "I'm going to just lay this out there: If you think just because I haven't been in the lab all that long you can get me to be your snitch, you're wrong."

"I'm not Stetler," she reiterated. "The thing about this crime lab is that it's always been, shall I say, insular. The officers working here don't trust outsiders. They're loyal to their own, and definitely have their own methods. That's not necessarily a bad thing. With Miami being a hub for international drug, weapon, and human trafficking, from a law enforcement standpoint this is the wild west. It needs law enforcement officers willing to go above and beyond, and it has that here. The officers of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab are unconventional, but are often quite effective. More effective, I believe, than they would be if they didn't push the limits every now and then. But even so, I believe some lines shouldn't be crossed."

"Such as?"

"Beating or threatening a suspect, searches without a warrant, and vigilante justice."

"What about, say, stealing valuables from evidence lock up?"

"Naturally. That's way over the line. I told you, I'm not Stetler. Stopping people like him is why I took this job."

"So why are you talking to me? You suspect me of crossing any lines?"

"Not at all, Mr. Simmons. In fact, you're the only CSI on Lieutenant Caine's team who hasn't participated in ethically questionable behavior at one point or another. As far as I can tell, you're clean as a whistle."

"Hey, the guys I work with are good people. Horatio is a good person."

"I don't doubt that," she said. "I would be shocked if anyone on this team did something like steal, or embezzle, or extort, or anything of that nature. It's vigilante justice I'm more concerned about. As I said, Horatio's team is a very effective group of crime fighters, and as long as they stay within the bounds of the law, they'll remain so. But constitutional protections of suspects' rights are in place for a reason, and if this team violates those limits, they're going to lose their jobs. I hope that if you see any of your friends going too far, you'll talk them out of it." She stood up to leave, but added, "And if you can't talk them out of it, maybe consider that giving me a call might be the right thing to do."

* * *

The Document Analysis Workshop struck Eli as the most boring thing conceivable. How could anyone stand to spend hours figuring out if a signature was written in the same kind of ink as the rest of a letter or whether two documents were printed with the same printer? It was positively mind numbing.

He noticed Calleigh had early in the day gravitated to Dr. Howe, and they were currently engrossed in an animated though hushed discussion using so much CSI jargon they might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Eli wondered if that was part of her plan to figure out who the thief was.

Ria was closer to them, right next to Calleigh, in fact, and more tuned in to their conversation. Although she didn't find it nearly as interesting as Eric's expressions. He was across the table, and trying very hard not to look at Calleigh.

"Now go to the next slide, the slide labeled E-2," Mr. Chen continued. He spoke slowly, articulating carefully to make sure every word could be understood in spite of his heavy Chinese accent. "If you zoom in slightly, you will notice that the grain of the paper is slightly coarser than the last sample. You may also notice this paper is slightly discolored, and may conclude from that that it is older, or has been stored in a less hermetic environment, than our last sample..."

"Since you're that interested in the methodology, I'll let you look over the reports, if you want," Dr. Howe whispered to Calleigh, continuing their previous line of conversation, as they both pressed their eyes to their microscopes.

"Much as I'd love to, I wouldn't want to put you to that much trouble. You've already been so obliging to me."

Mr. Chen continued. "In the case I alluded to earlier, the letters were both found when police officers..."

"No trouble," Dr. Howe assured her. "I brought my computer with me. I can log in remotely and get you copies of the reports during the lunch break."

"You'd do that for me? Oh, Dr. Howe, you are really too much," Calleigh whispered, sounding delighted.

Dr. Howe grinned at the praise.

Ria smiled and shook her head slightly. Calleigh and Dr. Howe had been conversing sporadically for almost an hour, and only now did she see that the whole time Calleigh had been carefully directing their discussion to this result.

"Can anyone guess how the Shanghai investigators could tell the real letter from the forgery?" Mr. Chen asked the group.

Calleigh raised her hand.

"Yes, young lady?"

"The yellow stains along the edge of the second sheet of paper were tobacco smoke stains. _That _was the real letter."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"I smelled them."

He smiled and nodded. "That's how the investigators in the case study solved it as well. They confirmed the analysis with gas chromatography, and matched the chemical composition of the tobacco residue to the brand of cigarette the victim was known to smoke."

Eli almost thought things were getting interesting. And then Mr. Chen moved on. "Now, in your trays you will find a slide labeled F-1..."

* * *

During the break for lunch, Dr. Howe took out his laptop and within a few minutes had emailed Calleigh reports from all shooting incidents his team had investigated within the last six months. The specific reports she'd wanted were initial crime scene evaluations. She found the case number Cal Lightman had gotten from their client's lawyer. It didn't take her long to figure out which of the CSIs on the scene had been processing the bed.

On the conference sign-in sheet at the front desk, the attendees had written their names and cellphone numbers. Calleigh glanced at it the next time she walked by. As she walked away, she took out her cellphone and composed a text. She included the case number, and the address for the Lightman Group's office, then the message:_ Be here tonight at 8:00 p.m. or IAB will find out what you did. _

Send.

Back in the conference room, Ria noticed a look of distress come over the face of one of the four suspects they were watching.


	9. Fruition

Chapter 9: Fruition

Calleigh waited alone in the lobby of the Lightman Group's office, checking her watch every few minutes.

At 8:20 p.m., CSI Heather Vance walked in. She looked uncertainly at Calleigh. Calleigh stood and smiled at her. "Hello Ms. Vance. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat."

"You sent that text?" she asked in confusion as she sat in the waiting chair.

"Yes I did. I'm sorry I worried you, but I wanted to make sure we had a chance to talk privately."

"She's very good," Lightman noted approvingly of Calleigh from the back office where he, Dr. Foster, Eli, Ria, and Eric watched through the camera feed.

"Lies like a pro," Eli agreed.

They fell silent again to focus on the conversation.

"You threatened me," Vance said.

"You stole from a crime scene," Calleigh replied softly. "I couldn't just let that go."

"Why do you think I stole from a crime scene?"

"She's scared," Ria noted.

Calleigh looked at Vance almost sympathetically. "Sixteen gold necklaces and fifty gold bracelets were stolen from Henry Boyd during the processing of his apartment. You were the CSI who processed the bed, and that gold wasn't mentioned in the report, which tells me you found it, and took if before anyone else noticed. He just wants them back. If you return them, he won't press charges."

Vance looked at her coldly. "Of course he won't press charges. Someone living in a place like that with that much gold hidden in his mattress...it had to be stolen. I am out there working every day to put criminals away, and I get paid peanuts for it. So what if I took something that was stolen in the first place? I needed the money."

"It wasn't stolen; he inherited it."

"Oh, is that what he told you?"

"Even if they were ill-gotten goods, they weren't yours to take. Is that the first time you've stolen from a crime scene?"

"Yes."

"That's true," Lightman said.

Calleigh continued. "Mr. Boyd isn't afraid to testify against you if he has to, but he would prefer to do without the hassle of a court case. He just wants his belongings back. Do you still have it?"

Vance glared at her.

"Do you still have the jewelry?" Calleigh repeated, more forcefully.

"No."

"That's too bad. I hope you can get it back, because if it doesn't get returned to Mr. Boyd by this time tomorrow night, I'm reporting this to IAB."

"You can't do that to me!"

"I have to. What you did isn't just illegal or wrong, it's a blatant violation of the public trust that's required for us to do our jobs."

"I need the money."

"Well stealing is the wrong way to get it. And the more you try to rationalize it, the more I think it might be a mistake to give you a chance to fix it instead of just reporting you."

Vance looked at her tensely. Then she opened her purse and took out a small package. She shoved it at Calleigh, then she walked out huffily.

"She's still afraid she's going to get turned in," Foster noted.

Calleigh opened the packet, then looked up at the security camera. She didn't have to count the gold jewelry to know that most if not all of the stolen items were now in her hands.

* * *

Horatio Caine had been expecting the new IAB agent to pay him a visit, but he wasn't expecting it to be now. He'd been working late, and was just heading out of his office to go home for the night when she turned a corner and walked up to him as he walked down the corridor. She was wearing a crisp, dark purple business suit with her dark hair pulled back on the left side with a silver barrette. "Good evening, Lieutenant Caine. You're working late."

"Crime doesn't sleep, and neither do I."

"That's a shame; adequate sleep is important to maintaining good physical and psychological health. You should always put time aside to take care of your own health, no matter how pressing your job is. However, at some point I would like a bit of your time to have a talk with you. I would remind you that this meeting is not optional, and I'm letting you pick the time as a courtesy."

"How long will it take?"

"Only a few minutes, I expect."

Horatio nodded. "I'll speak to you now. In my office."

"As you prefer."

Once in his office, Wexler took a seat and drew a folder from her briefcase. She opened it and laid it on his desk. "Have a seat, Lieutenant Caine."

"I'd prefer to stand."

"But the conversation will be more productive if we're on an even level."

"Are we?" Horatio asked.

She sighed. "I have no intention of being your enemy, Lieutenant. Sit or stand, but you won't get me out any sooner by making yourself uncomfortable."

He sat down in his chair, giving himself a clear view of her facial expressions as she took a stack of papers out of the folder and flipped through them with a cursory glance before meeting his eyes. "I'm going to start by saying you have a good team. They're indisputably competent, resourceful, and innovative. And it certainly doesn't hurt that this is one of the best-funded forensic labs in the country. They're also very loyal to you. More loyal to you than you are to them, it seems to me."

"What do you mean by that?"

Her eyes flicked up to him. "Would they lie to protect you? You don't need to answer that: they would. I believe they have. Say you do something illegal, e.g. beat information out of a suspect, or harm a suspect out of anger and claim it was because they were resisting arrest. It's usually your word against the suspect's, but the more suspects independently make such claims, the more weight those claims hold. And if your team had any idea you were doing such things and didn't report the behavior, and the accusations were proven true, your people would go down with you."

"Is that a threat?" he asked.

"Just the fact that you would ask that question indicates a problem in your attitude," she replied. "Believe it or not, I'm on your side. At least, assuming you're on the side of serving justice and upholding the law."

"There are times when protecting lives takes precedence over upholding the law."

"You're being defensive," she observed.

"Is this a psychological evaluation?"

"No, but honestly I think you could use one." She sighed, and set the stack of papers down on the table, resting her hand on it. "I believe these reports. You threaten and physically harm suspects, and it's been escalating. I'm concerned for you, because I know you're a great investigator, a solid leader for your team, and I believe you're basically a decent human being. But if you lose your position because of these allegations, you lose your ability to continue the good work you've done protecting this city. And if you commit crimes to solve crimes, you lose the moral high ground necessary to be an enforcer of the law. Once the people in charge of maintaining a system of justice lose their integrity, justice ceases to be justice."

"Perhaps you should take a look in a mirror," Horatio said.

"I did. And the last I checked, I don't look like Rick Stetler."

Horatio stared at her, looking at her for the first time without seeing her as the new face of an old enemy. Ori Wexler, with her short, dark curls, rimless glasses, prim pantsuit, and muted makeup looked almost matronly, but there was a keen wit behind her eyes, and a passion for her work he had never once seen in Stetler. Stetler wasn't IAB; he was the kind of thing IAB was supposed to stop. Wexler, he had no doubt, would have stopped him. "On that, I agree," he said.

She arched her fingers over the stack of papers. "Just so you know, I'm not going to pursue these. I'm starting with a clean slate for you if you'll give me the same consideration. I believe you have been and still can be one of the best protectors of the public Miami has ever had, and part of that is because you're so willing to take risks and go beyond safe boundaries in the execution of your duties, and I want to help you do that. But if you pull anything like this on my watch—vigilante justice, threats, unwarranted intimidation—I will take you down. Do you understand?"

She asked the question imploringly, like she was offering a deal. Which, he realized, she was: she was on his side as long as he played by her interpretation of the rules. It was an interesting line to walk.

"I understand."

"Good." She stood and gathered up her papers. "We'll see each other around," she said, and headed for the door.

"I look forward to it," he replied.

* * *

Dr. Foster insisted that Calleigh accompany her to return the stolen goods to Henry Boyd. She said it was important to restore their client's faith in law enforcement by introducing him to the CSI who had recovered the stolen property, to show him that some of those sworn to uphold the law took their duties seriously.

"I'm impressed by how you figured out it was Heather Vance," Foster said as she drove through the dark streets toward Boyd's apartment. "Piecing it together from just looking through the crime scene reports."

"One of the reasons we document everything so carefully is so if something gets misplaced we know exactly where in the chain of custody it's gone missing. Vance was the one who processed the bed, and there was no mention of the gold in her report. If someone else had stolen it, she would at least have had to know about it to help cover it up."

"I can see how that could easily compromised an investigation. If it had been a burglar Mr. Boyd shot, finding nothing in his apartment worth stealing could have made him look culpable."

"Absolutely." Calleigh was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you think I did the right thing, letting the thief get away with it? I believe in giving people a second chance, but do you think she'll do it again?"

"This is the first time she's ever given in to the temptation to steal from a crime scene, and getting caught the first time will make her too paranoid to risk it again, especially since she knows how serious the consequences would have been if you had turned her in. Whether you did the right thing is harder to say."

"I let another CSI get away with something before. He was a colleague who used a dead man's credit card. It got him fired, but because of some strings I pulled he didn't get arrested. But he blamed me for losing his job. Letting him off easy came back to haunt me."

"It's easy to lose faith in people. And once you lose it, it's hard to get it back."

Calleigh nodded.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Foster asked.

"Not at all."

"What is the situation between you and your colleague, Mr. Delko?"

Calleigh cleared her throat, glancing down awkwardly. "We...used to date."

"I see. And I take it the split wasn't exactly a clean break?"

"You could put it that way," Calleigh replied with a strained smile. "It was complicated. We'd worked together for years, and then we fell in love, and it was...intense, for both of us. But then..."

"But then what?" Foster asked, her soft tone showing she was now in full psychiatrist mode.

"It was kind of a roller coaster. Eric is...passionate, and impetuous, and...reckless sometimes."

"And once you lose trust in someone it's hard to get it back?"

"Yeah," Calleigh agreed, grateful to have someone who sounded like she understood. "I love him. I love him like family. But I have my own life to keep straight. And when I get too close to him, things can get a little haywire."

"I know what that feels like."

"I recently adopted two kids, a son and daughter. It wasn't really something I was planning on, but I met them during a case, and they needed someone, and I just fell absolutely in love with them, and I just knew it was the right thing. I just look at them and I feel in my bones they're meant to be mine."

"I know what that's like, too," Foster admitted, thinking of the baby that had so briefly been hers. "And I take it that decision affected your relationship with Eric?"

"Yeah, but it was my choice, not his. I never really gave up on thinking I could make it work with Eric, not completely. But it was so complicated, and I needed to focus on being a mom, so I just put everything else on the sidelines, including Eric. He's a great guy: handsome, kind, funny, considerate. He'd be a great catch. And I was kind of expecting he'd just move on, but he didn't move on. He's there for me, without asking for anything out of it. He's a great friend," she added, looking miserable.

"So he's still in love with you, and you aren't sure how you feel about him?"

"I don't know. I don't know if he's still in love with me, or if he just doesn't talk about his love life when I'm around."

It struck Foster as very interesting that Calleigh seemed oblivious to what was in Eric's eyes every time he looked at her. A blind spot. A point of insecurity in a nature that seemed overall very self-confident.

"Have you had bad experiences with relationships with men in the past? Maybe men in your life who were unreliable, controlling, maybe even abusive?"

"Just between you and me?"

"It won't leave this car. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Then I'd say all of the above."

Foster nodded. "Was Eric any of those things?"

"He wasn't always completely honest. He kept things from me, things he should have told me. He thought he was doing it to protect me, but...that's kind of something that really gets to me."

Foster parked the car outside Boyd's apartment building, but didn't get out. She turned to Calleigh, giving her her full attention. "And you were afraid that if you stayed with him, your relationship with him would turn into the bad relationships you've had in the past."

"Maybe. And maybe it wouldn't have. But could I take that risk? Especially when I have my kids to worry about?"

"A relationship is always a risk. Opening yourself up to someone, letting yourself love them, makes you vulnerable. They can hurt you. And when they get hurt, that hurts you too. The equation you need to figure out is whether it's worth the risk. Whether _he's _worth that risk."

"So what's you're diagnosis, Doctor?"

"He's still in love with you. And part of you knows that. If that's not a role you want in your life, at least not with him, then you owe it to him and to yourself to tell him that, let him know in no uncertain terms that you're not romantically interested in him. That way he can move on, and so can you."

"And if I do?" she asked distantly. "If I do want him in that role in my life?"

"Then you should tell him, before he gives up on waiting." They got out of the car, and as they walked up to the building, she added. "Try a thought experiment: imagine your life without him. He's entirely out of the equation. What would be different? What would you lose? What would you gain? What would you regret? Consider the opportunities as well as the drawbacks. It will help you sort out your feelings for him."

"Thanks, Doc."

* * *

"So since we got the stolen jewelry back tonight, do you think we still have to go to the last day of the conference tomorrow?" Eli asked.

"Considering it's too late to get a refund on the registration fee, I'd say yes," Ria replied. "Besides, I think you're learning a lot from it."

They and Eric were still in the Lightman Group office. Lightman was finishing up some emails at his computer. He'd left Eli and Ria to lock up for the night.

"We should have you guys come give a lecture in Miami," Eric said. "It's incredible what you guys do here, figuring out if people are lying just by listening to them talk. It would really be helpful questioning suspects. Is that something anyone can learn, or are you just born with it?"

"It's a little of both," Eli said. "It's a skill you can hone, like Lightman, but there are what we call naturals, people who are just naturally really good at telling when someone's lying or acting suspicious, like Ria."

Ria nodded. "It comes in handy figuring out if someone's guilty, but not necessarily in prosecuting them. At least not yet. The science is too new. A lot of what Lightman does here is research."

"Maybe in a few years people will get trained as human lie detectors in police academy," Eli added.

"Actually, it's not really accurate to call us human lie detectors." Ria added quickly. "Think of it as picking up on emotions. When you lie, especially if you're afraid you'll get caught, you get nervous, and that's what polygraphs pick up on. That's why they have such a high rate of false positives, because who's not nervous when they're strapped to a polygraph, right? When people lie, there can also be guilt, calculation, fear. But none of those emotions are unique to someone lying."

"The subject might also be sweaty and fidgety because they're talking to someone they're attracted to, rather than because they're lying and afraid of getting caught. The trick to picking up on a lie is seeing if the emotions they're showing match up with the words they're saying," said Eli.

"In fact, even when people don't say anything, a lot of times you can figure out what they're thinking by body language and expression."

"Really?" Eric sounded intrigued. "Like what?"

Ria and Eli exchanged amused smirks.

"You wanna show him?" Eli asked.

"Yeah, let's show him."

"Show me what?"

Eli went to his computer and brought up a file called "Attraction."

"This is Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie talking about their new movie _Mr. and Mrs. Smith _in 2005."

Eric looked over his shoulder at the image. Pitt was at a microphone, and Jolie was to his right and slightly behind him, casting him a furtive but unmistakably flirtatious glance.

"This was before they even started dating," Ria said.

"I'd say she's into him," Eric agreed. "What's your point?"

"And this," Eli said, clicking up another file, "is from our lobby last night."

The picture was of Eric and Calleigh sneaking into the Lightman Group offices.

"Notice the expression on her face?" Ria asked.

Eric did.

Calleigh had been standing behind him, out of his line of sight. She was looking toward him with the same kind of ardent affection.

The expression on Eric's face, Ria noted, was astonishment.

"So in case you're wondering if she's into you," Eli said, "she's into you."

* * *

Dr. Foster had dropped Calleigh off at the hotel after returning the stolen jewelry to the enthusiastically grateful Mr. Boyd.

Once she was settled back in her hotel room, she ate a protein bar for supper, got ready for bed, then sat at the edge of her bed staring out the window and thinking. Finally she stood up, threw on a bathrobe and slippers, and walked down the hall to Eric's room. Her fist rose to the door, confidently at first, then it faltered and dissipated, her hand falling limply back to her side. It was late. Probably almost midnight. He was probably asleep. She turned around to go back to her room, then turned back toward his door. She knocked very, very softly.

Eric opened the door and stared at her. "Calleigh, what is it?" he finally asked.

"I'd like to talk to you," she said with an apologetic half smile and a shrug, like it didn't make sense to her, either.

"Come in," he said quickly.

She walked into his hotel room, taking a few aimless steps toward the window. He closed the door and watched her.

"I...don't even know what I'm doing here," she said. "This isn't anything that won't wait till morning. I just..." She trailed off.

"Hey, don't worry about it. You know you can talk to me about anything, any time. What's on your mind?"

She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. "Us."

Eric thought of what Ria and Eli had said, and hoped it was true, and was terrified that it wasn't.

"I know I've been caught up lately with being a mom, with work, with getting ready for this conference. I appreciate, more than I can say, that you're always there for me when I need you, and that you give me space when I ask for it. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I realized...I know I've been pushing you away, but that has nothing to do with you. It's been me. After my parents split up, and then what I went through with John and Jake, it's just been really hard for me to get close to people. But I want you in my life. I really do."

"I'll always be in your life, Cal. No matter what happens. You know that." Eric was still not sure where she was going with this, and wanted to be careful that he didn't say anything disastrous.

"I know. It's just that...it's like there's this distance between us. It's like this big sinkhole, and I've just been going around it and thinking I'll get to it later, and it wouldn't even bother me that much except that what used to be there was something really beautiful. It was us."

He was still afraid to say anything, but she had turned toward him, and was waiting with an apprehensive look for him to respond.

"Are you saying you're willing to give me another chance?"

"No." She smiled, nervously. "I'm asking if you're willing to give me one."

He laughed with relief, then took a step toward her, resting his hands on her arms. "Calleigh." He shook his head, then kissed her, touching his lips lightly to hers, and lingering there for several long seconds before he pulled away and gazed at her. "You never need to worry about that."

A smile grew on Calleigh's lips. "Why do I believe that?"

"Because I'll never lie to you."

She chuckled. "Let's not make promises we can't can't keep. Everybody lies. I've lied to you before, and I can't honestly say I won't do it again."

"The difference is, I'll know."

"Oh will you?"

He nodded, with an arch little smile.

"Let's see." She put her arms around his neck. "I'm so tired, I just want to go to sleep. Am I laying or telling the truth?"

"You, Miss Duquesne," he said, smile widening, "are lying."

"How can you tell?"

Instead of answering, he kissed her, and the truth was in the way she kissed him back.

The End


End file.
